Gred and Forge: The story with no title
by 17ginny17
Summary: This is a story about Fred and George, the story behind the jokes, and what they find out when something goes very wrong. If you want to know more, then you'll have to read the story! Rated T for safety later on. Now read and review, please! :D
1. Dudley, have a sweet

**Authors' note: Yes, authors in the plural because there are in fact two of us. FaNgizzsoKool and 17ginny17. ****This story takes place in Harry's fourth year. Now read the story and enjoy!!**

**Disclaimer: We do not own any of the Harry Potter books or characters, since the last time I checked we are not J. K. Rowling**  


George PoV:

"Well maybe if we mix this with--" "Fred, George! Get down here this minute!"

Oh, great. Why does mom always have to call right when Fred and I are about to have a breakthrough?

"Boys, are you making those sweets again? How many times do I have to tell you…" There she goes again, pestering us about our personal business. We are so busy frantically hiding the sweets we were experimenting on under the bed, in our shoes and pockets, and anywhere else we can think of, that we almost do not hear what mom says next: "Hurry up! We're going to be late to get Harry!"

"Harry?!", Fred and I say in unison. "I had forgotten that was today…", says Fred. "Now we can finally see if our experiments work or not". I'm not sure if this is such a good idea, but I keep my mouth shut; most of our plans work out, even if we do get in trouble afterwards. "Yeah", I say. " Dudley is finally going to get what's coming to him".

"FRED! GEORGE!"

We stuff the last of our sweets into our hats and the lining of our coats, and rush downstairs. Once we get down, mom starts in on us again. Why can't she ever pick on Percy or Ron for once? "I hope you two were studying, you know, you did so poorly on your OWLs. Only three OWLs each! You know, the grades you get now will affect your entire life…" Blah, blah, blah. Who really needs that stuff anyway? As soon as we can find the money to get started, we can open our joke shop and never have to worry about tests again. Mom seems to read my mind: "You two weren't working on that _joke shop_ again, were you?" "No!", we both reply untruthfully.

I can see mom doesn't believe us. "Accio sweets! Accio! Accio!" Colored candies start flying into her hands from our pockets, hats, and shoes. Darn it.

_2 hours later_:

"Four Privet Drive!"

Fred and I drop our handfuls of green floo powder, and we are off to take Harry from his Aunt and Uncle's house. That place is like a prison, I mean seriously. They probably don't even let Harry mix toxic chemicals in his room. Not that our mom lets us either, but with six boys in the house it is a little easier to hide something small like that.

But anyway, back to the fireplace. Which is just the problem; there _is_ no fireplace. All those stupid Dursleys have is a boarded-up hole in the wall with an electric fire in it. And we, meaning me, Fred, and Dad were all stuck inside. How inconsiderate. Especially knowing Dad's love for all things "elektic".

"Ow, Dad, that's my rib you're crushing", I hear from Fred's voice somewhere by my right ear. Oh yeah, did I mention that the fireplace is about the size of a small phone booth and pitch black? Dad takes out his wand (managing to poke both of us in the eyes in the process) and shouts "Reductio". The wall blocking the fireplace is destroyed, and we are out! Unfortunately, the Dursleys did not think of it the same way we did. The first thing I see as I climb out was a big, red face, shouting "(insert curse words of choice here)". A thin, sour looking lady was also staring at us, like she's never seen anyone appear in her fireplace and reduce her wall to dust before (which I guess she hasn't). And, last but not least, was a fat, stupid-looking boy who I can only imagine is Dudley. He is looking from Dad's wand to the wall and back again, clutching his bottom like he's afraid that it will go the same way as the wall. I mean really, this guy is going to be even more fun than I expected.

Everyone eventually comes to their senses and starts screaming at us, so I quietly leave the room, stopping only to cheer on whoever is planning to throw the next heavy object. I go to Harry's room to tell him that we are here, although the only way he would not already know that is if he went deaf and moved to New Zealand.

Conveniently, I know exactly where Harry's room is, having kidnapped (rescued) him from his room two years ago in a flying car. Sure enough, when I went into Harry's room he was packing up the last of his things and preparing to leave. "Hello, Harry! We're in case you didn't hear, we're taking you to the Quidditch World Cup whether those muggles like it or not. And I'm inclined to believe it's 'not'."

When we got back into the main room, Dad was trying to fix the wall, which was pretty hard since every time he picked up his wand all three Dursleys started screaming all over again. (By now Mr. Dursley's face had turned a nice shade of maroon) Dad walked over Fred, Harry, and me and handed us each a bit of floo powder. "I think you should be getting back now, I'm just going to stay a bit longer to sort this out".

"Sure, just a minute", Fred says, winking at me. He hands me a bag of sweets that he managed to hide from dear old mum, and I go over to Dudley, handing him a bright piece of candy. " Dudley, have a sweet", I say in my most fake American-imitating-an-English-person-voice. When he is about to grab it with his fat fingers, I snatch it back. "Oh, no! I forgot that you're on a diet. _So_ sorry. Goodbye!" I walk away, leaving Dudley looking upset and bewildered. Phase one: complete.

I hand the bag back to Fred, which he accidentally-on-purpose drops, spilling colored pieces of candy all over the floor. We quickly gather up the candy, but not before we see Dudley greedily grab a large purple toffee. Of course, if he had read the wrapper, he would have seen the label "Ton-Tongue Toffee", but I guess one thing you can never trust Dudley to do is read something when he could eat it.

Harry, Fred, and I step into the fireplace and drop our handfuls of floo powder, but not before we see an immensely satisfying image of Dudley choking on a meter-long purple tongue. "You know", says Fred, "I do think he looks better that way".

I chuckle, thinking that we have just found out a wonderful new way to test our inventions. Little do I know just how much trouble these innocent little sweets will cause later on.

**A/N: We hope you liked the story. Now, press that wonderful magical purple-blue button and send us a review! Tell us what you think! If you tel****l us that we should continue the story, then the next chapter will be out in a day or two. And if you tell us our story sucks so please, please don't write any more, they you are being mean, and we will still write another chapter! But seriously, REVIEW!!! And thanks for reading.**


	2. The Joke Shop Laboratory, Part 1

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while to be published; we had major writer's block. So here is the chapter!! And thank you to Ponytail Goddess for reviewing (looks angrily at all the people who did not review).**

**Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. So sue me. Really, how gullible are you?  
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Fred PoV:

Now, we (meaning the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, and usually more than a few Order members) are at number 12, Grimmauld Place, and, living up to its name, it is as dark, dismal, and dirty a place as anyone can imagine. It's even complete with its own completely barmy house-elf, who mutters to himself about "mudblood scum" and "blood traitor filth". He's almost as rude as Peeves, but not nearly as funny. I mean, his life's ambition is to get his head chopped off and pinned up on a wall. This guy needs some serious therapy, you know?

And I still can't believe that Harry gave us his Triwizard winnings. 1,000 galleons, all for our joke shop! Seriously, that guy is so noble its mental. Mum would go ballistic if she knew, but what mummy doesn't know won't hurt her.

And speaking of Harry, something tells me he has just arrived. And it might be the fact that I hear him screaming at the top of his voice in the room next door. Come to think of it, even if I went deaf and moved to New Zealand, I would still hear him, loud and clear.

So really, Harry didn't mind a bit that all of the Order members, Weasleys, and Hermione were here in this prison cleaning up random dark artifacts and being called trash (and many things worse than trash) by the charming Mrs. Black. In fact, he seemed right thankful that he did not have to be cooped up in here. Yep. And Hermione failed Charms and Transfiguration. And today is opposite day. And I have three right eyebrows.

But I guess you really can't blame him...he's got plenty of problems as it is. Which brings me to the hearing. Famous Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, performs very advanced magic to save himself and his muggle cousin from soul-sucking dementors. So he's a bit of a hero, right? _Wrong_. Instead, he gets a hearing at the Ministry to see if he will be expelled from Hogwarts and have his wand snapped in two. Sometimes I really think that George and I are the only sane people left, and that's really saying something.

"Fred? You in there?" , I hear George call from outside my door. "Come on, and bring the extendables. The Order's having an important meeting, apparently. And that _git_ Snape is here. Can't wait to hear what _he's_ got to say". I smile, and take out a box of what looks like ears on strings: Extendable Ears. Two for a galleon, you can hear any private conversations—"Fred, come on!" , George says, interrupting my imaginary commercial. We step out of the room, box in hand, but before we can get far, Ginny stops us. "It's no use, they've charmed the door so you can't eavesdrop. Besides, Dad is just rambling on and on about that regurgitating toilet. I mean, does anyone actually care if 'the muggle plumbles are completely flummoxed'?..." George and I look at each other for a second, mentally congratulating whoever thought of such a great idea. And to think, we believed that sending Ginny a Hogwarts toilet seat a few years back was an inspirational idea. This is just hilarious on a whole new level!

We turn back to our room, ready to begin some new experiments. The latest are Skiving Snackboxes: sweets to make you ill enough to get out of class, but then, when you eat the other half, quite healthy and ready to pursue whatever leisure activity you choose. The only trouble is figuring out the antidotes; right now anyone who eats a Nosebleed Nougat will keep on bleeding until they shrivel up and die. Draco, have a sweet! And you too, dear Professor Snape!

Right now, we're experimenting with doxy venom, boomslang skin, and a few other choice ingredients from Mundungus. It's not _exactly_ legal, but that's Dung's problem, not ours. Nothing dangerous, really, but all the same it's not something you want Mum to find hidden in your bedroom, you know? For now, we are working on a new product, Wheezing Walnuts, a Weasleys Wizard Wheezes specialty. "Ready?", I ask, and George nods, holding back a laugh. We both swallow the orange end of a sweet, but for some weird reason, nothing happens. Not one measly cough. And then…"ON MY GOD! FRED!! HELP!!!"

**A/N: **

**17Ginny17: He he, left you on a cliffhanger! **

**FaNgizzoKool: We are so mean (evil laugh). But we will post the next chapter immediately as soon as we get 2 reviews telling us to. **

**17Ginny17: Yes, 2. That's it people, only 2. So please, be a nice person and send us one of those 2! **

**So press that review portkey and send us a message! Or else, the evil bunnies will get you in your sleep, mwa ha ha ha! **


	3. Screaming Like A Girl

**A/N: We're baaa-aaack! So quit stalling and read the chapter.**

**Thank you to Laura and WenYongFa for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: DO I _LOOK_ LIKE J. K. ROWLING??? No, didn't think so. So why would you think I own Harry Potter? Hmmmmmm? Oooh, burned.**

George PoV:

"OH MY GOD! FRED!! HELP!!!", I shout. My head is bursting with pain, and I see little white dots dancing before my eyes. I can't hear anything because my ears are full of melted brain. And, I'll admit it. I'm screaming like a girl.

_This is not good_, I say to myself_, Why didn't we test the sweets on dear old Dudley or Professor Snape first? Why did we just eat them like that? Why, why, WHY?_

I'm calling out, I need someone to save me. Someone, anyone, come quickly before my head implodes...my eyes roll backwards in my head and I'm not sure if I can take it anymore. I just want it all to end now, just stop all of the pain...

Fred PoV:

George is screaming like a girl. (OK, that's politically incorrect, so sue me Ginny!) But if George is screaming like a girl, _something_ has gone drastically wrong. Blimey, he's woken up Mrs. Black, which just adds to this wonderful symphony.

Was it something he ate? Oh, silly question. Curse those blasted wheezing walnuts! Those were a bad idea from the very beginning. And plus, they tasted like something you found under the sink with slime all over it. Try putting _that_ on the advertisements!

So, back to the immediate catastrophe: What the heck is happening? Now George is rocking back and forth, holding his head and moaning. He looks as happy as if someone has put the Cruciatus curse on him.. Which maybe they have, I don't even know! Should I get someone? And tell them what? We were testing out using dangerous class C non-tradable substances, bought from a known thief, and when we ate our mixture, it made George scream out in pain? And who will believe that, I ask you-- "THE PAIN, THE PAIN!!! _OW_!!! AIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!"

Did I just say that out loud? Great. Now _I'm_ screaming like a girl.

**A/N: Sorry this is a very short chapter, but we're posting chapter 4 with it too to make up.**

**Review or we'll make you eat lunch bought from the school cafeteria! Scared? You'd better be  
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	4. Welcome To hell, Don't Eat the Cookies

**A/N: As promised, here's the next chapter**

**_FaNgizzoKool: Huh? What's with the chapter title?_**

**_17ginny17: You're just jealous that you didn't think of it_**

**_FaNgizzoKool: Yeah well I thought of the Devil's Gift Shop so no stealing. M m m m bam!_**

**_17ginny17: Go back to your own story _(all because of Angel)_ if you're going to quote it so much._**

**_FaNgizzoKool: Holy Poop on Toast!_**

**_17ginny17: Grrrrrr..._**

**Anyway, here is the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or a flying Ford Angelia. Or a talking bathtub. Get the picture people?**

George PoV:

I hear Fred screaming too now, but the pain in my head is going away. The white dots are slowly disappearing, and my brains are returning to their rightful places inside my head. I open my eyes and let out a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. Next to me, Fred stops screaming also. We look around, and, surprise!, we are not in our bedroom anymore. We're not at 12 Grimmauld Place anymore either. Heck, I don't think we're in _England_ anymore. That would be too normal, right?

Instead, we are also in a big white room. It looks just like King's Cross station, except that King's Cross station is not big and white and empty and there is no train here, which is the whole point of King's Cross. So how can I tell that it looks like King's Cross, you ask? I'll answer: I don't know.

Fred and I hear a loud_ pop!_, like the sound when someone apparates or disapparates. We look around for any sign of a person, and what do we see? A big plate of-- "Cookies and sweets!", shouts Fred.

"Mmmm, they smell so good! But...how did they get here?" I say, because if you have realized, cookies and sweets do not know how to apparate.

"I don't know and I don't care", Fred replies. "They smell so good you'd have to be _mental_ not to eat them. And besides, all we had for breakfast this morning was porridge. Cold porridge, if you remember." I remember, partly owed to the fact that my stomach is rumbling very loudly.

"Well…", I say, "but you know what mum always says, 'never trust anything if you don't know where it keeps its brain." "We're not trusting, we're eating. And cookies don't _have_ brains", Fred retorts. They do smell awfully good…

"Fine", I say. Fred has already plunged his hand into the heaping pile and taken a handful. I reach out my hand, and gingerly touch a sweet. As soon as it touches the sweets, my hand goes on automatic power-drive; I just can't stop piling candy into my hands.

Then, through a mouthful of sweets, Fred mumbles, "Wuffsat?" I have no idea what he just said until I say the same thing, minus all the sweets: "What's that?"

It turns out, _that_ is a train, headed our way. And, apparently, we are standing right on the tracks. "Run!", I shout to Fred, "RUN! Now!"

He is so busy trying to rescue as much candy as he can that I have to drag him away with all my strength, him still trying to fill his arms and mouth with cookies. I tell you, something is strange with that food. Now I'm glad that I haven't had a chance to eat any yet.

We get away not a second too late, as the train plows by the same place where we were not three seconds ago. Then, it comes to a screeching stop in front of us, and I can only assume we're meant to get on. "C'mon! Do you want to be stuck here forever? This is our ticket out, couldn't be simpler.", says Fred, walking towards the train. It seems that the only options are to stay here for all eternity and beyond or get on the train, so, no questions asked, we board. When I get in, I notice that everything is very dim, and has a faint scarlet glow, but there is little time to ponder this because the second we have all body parts on board, the train is off again, hurtling along at a paltry 9,000 kilometers per hour. Wait, did I say hour? Silly me, I meant _minute_. This train could give the Knight Bus a serious run for its money. I think I'm going to be sick. Things are rushing by outside the window: first a green countryside, quickly replaced by a desert and then an Arctic tundra. All this is finally replaced by a long, dark tunnel, down, down, down, right into the ground itself. Fred and I stare silently at each other, for once at a loss for words.

One final time, the train rushes ahead, then comes to jerking stop. Fred and I step slowly out of the train, still nauseous from the ride. We blink a few times and look around us. All there is to see for miles around is thick, stifling gray-red fog. That is, except for one clear white piece, contrasting noticeably from the surrounding gloom. We walk up closer, drawn inexplicably to the area, but we are disappointed. All there is to see is a tattered piece of cloth, hanging down from an archway near the wall. Strangely, it was fluttering a little in the breeze, which was strange precisely because there _was_ no breeze. We stared at it for a second, not quite sure what to make of it.

And that's when we started hearing the voices. Whispering, indecipherable voices, surrounding us from every direction. Yes, you are probably thinking, that does it. This guy is a nutter through and through. But—oh my gosh! "Sirius!"

Sirius is falling through the archway, his head emerging first, followed by his shoulders, and finally, the rest of his body. "Come on!", Fred shouts to me, and we both run closer to Sirius, thinking that if he's here, a member of the Order itself, then we must be saved. Maybe he's not alone! Maybe he knows what is going on!

As we rush over, we realize that something is wrong. He's not moving, just lying there where he fell.

Oh. My. God.

Sirius is dead.

**A/N: Yeah, this chapter is a bit darker than the others, so you have to tell us if you like it; we can't read minds! (Though goodness knows we've tried) Send a review, please. Even if it says "Your story sucks, loser!", as long as you tell us _why _our story sucks and how we can improve. So send a review! And besides, no new chapters are coming out until 3 of you review!!**

**You'll make my day, I promise!**


	5. What's Wrong With This Picture?

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to FaNgizzoKool and her story "All Because of Angel" (so read it when you finish reading this!!). OK, so technically 3 people did not review. But if one person reviews 4 times (thanks Evenstar606! ), so I think my readers (or maybe, sadly, reader in the singular) deserve a new chapter. And besides, why should I have an already-written chapter waiting here when I could post it? **

**Disclaimer: Yep, I'm J. K. Rowling and I own Harry Potter. And Hermione failed Charms and today is opposite day and Fred has three left eyebrows. Yeah right! **

Fred PoV:

Why, oh why did I have to eat those blasted cookies? Really, I couldn't help myself. They were calling to me, saying _Fred, eat us, eeeeaatt uuusssss!_ And now you are thinking: Is Fred mental or just plain mad? But really, oh just forget it. You wouldn't understand anyway. But why, oh _why_ did I have to eat those cookies and get us stuck in this bloody madhouse?

Because now Sirius is dead. Gone. Forever. The truth hits me like a ton of cement cauldrons.

Never again will we hear Sirius' laughter, or see him standing up to Snape. Never again will we see him bound across the sidewalk disguised as a shaggy black dog.

And Harry, how will Harry feel? I know this will hurt him more than any of us. Sirius was his godfather, the next best parent Harry could have after his own.

I turn to George and ask quietly, "What do you reckon?"

He only shakes his head, and reaches out to see if Sirius has a pulse. He doesn't. We are so miserable and bewildered that we don't even hear the train pull up behind us, a fairly amazing feat, considering how the train is blowing its whistle and rattling along very noisily. This time we have no choice: the train pulls us back like a magnet, and we can not even attempt to resist. Not that we have the strength or the will to do it anyway. We watch as if from a distance, with none of the original exhilaration or fright. All that is left is a question, a question that is growing larger by the minute: _Why?_ And from that question stream all the other questions: _Who_ killed Sirius?_ What_ are we doing here?_ Where_ are we anyway?_ When _will we get back to our bedroom, if ever? And _How_ did we get here, how did this all happen?

The train gets back to the place I will from now on refer to as Kings Cross, and we step off, again not having a choice either way. We are not surprised to find that the pile of sweets is gone, but neither of us would have eaten any even if they were still there. Fred and I look at each other silently, with nothing to say because the same exact thoughts are running through both of our heads.

Molly Weasley PoV:

"FRED, GEORGE! Come down to have dinner!"

Where are those twins? Oh, if they are working on that joke shop again, I will…I don't know but I'll do something. They are just not working hard enough on the things that count! I should have known they'd have this problem ever since they turned Ron's teddy bear into a spider all those years ago. They don't care about anything serious, they just like making trouble.

"Arthur, have you seen the twins? It's not like them not to come down when I call them for dinner, and their room's been unusually quiet…", I call.

"Oh, Molly. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. You've been nervous about all of us since well..._he_ came back", he answers.

Voldemort, the wizard so evil that people are afraid even to say his name. I sigh and I know Arthur's right. I just can't help but worry for everyone these days…

Ginny PoV:

I wonder what the twins are doing in their room. It is so quiet in there, and they don't answer even when I threaten to tell mum about the fireworks they keep hidden in the closet. Not that I would of course, but they don't know that. Normally, they would come running out, jokingly threatening me with all sorts of medieval torture devices and such. But not now.

It is so rude of them to leave me here, by myself. I wish I could talk to Harry, but he's always with Hermione and Ron, and I'm just the baby sister. They don't tell me anything at all. Sometime, I'll prove to them that I am just as brave and smart as they are…

If only Fred and George would let me in, at least I'd get a little bit of excitement.

I _must_ find out what they're up to in there, because I for one know that they are never, ever this quiet unless they have a very good reason…

George PoV:

"FRED, GEORGE! Come down to have dinner!" That would be mum.

"C'mon guys, let me in already!" And that would be Ginny.

And if they are here, we are here, and I will say it again, WE ARE HERE. Back, safe, and utterly confused. I look to Fred, and the memory of what we just experienced plays back in my mind, in high definition with lots of subtitles. And let's just say that all in all I would have preferred a friendly little chat in the dungeons with a certain favorite potions professor and some dementors to what just happened.

"Coming!" we both call together, as Ginny threatens to smash down the door. We apparate out of the bedroom as fast as we can, trying to cover up our feelings and act like nothing is wrong or out of the ordinary.

Mum wants us to help with dinner, so we carelessly levitate the dishes and direct them to the table.

We know what must be done next. Breaking the news, telling everyone what happened, and risking the looney bin in the process.

And then we see him.

Sirius is sitting at the table, calm as can be, and very much alive. Fred is so surprised that he looses hold of his spell on the silverware, and a knife comes flying down, right where Sirius' hand had been until about one second before.

"Sorry", we both say, truly sorry but not really paying attention. We are looking at each other in disbelief. Sirius, here? But wasn't he…

"Sirius, where were you just before we came down?", I ask him. He looks at me, puzzled, and answers "At the Order meeting, you know that. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, nothing", I say. But Fred and I know that really, it is not nothing. _Something really strange is going on_, I think. And for once, I am right.

**A/N: Please review, because I know all of you want people to review to your stories. It will only take a minute, and it's relatively painless. I promise, it'll make me very happy! **

**I'm not putting a number of reviews I need for the next chapter this time, so be happy and the next chapter is coming soon!**

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	6. A Question of Sanity

**A/N: Here is the next chapter and thank you to all our faithful readers out there! Thank you to all who reviewed, it makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that someone cares! He he, mwa ha ha.**

**Disclaimer: Although we were honored to be compared to J. K. Rowling herself in one of our reviews (thanks so much volley1.1, thats one of the highest compliments you could give us!), I must sadly say that, if you haven't guessed, we are NOT J. K. Rowling. Poor us.**

Fred PoV:

"George?", I say quietly. "George?"

He is sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, eyes closed and silent. Presently, he begins talking so softly that I can barely hear him, and as much to himself as to me.

"What's happening to us? What the bloody hell is happening to us? Are we losing our sanity? Tell me George, did we make that up, were we dreaming? I don't think I can tell the difference any more."

All I can do is listen quietly, trying to think of some way to reassure him, and myself as well.

George starts talking again, a little louder now.

"Are we all mad, just like that _git_ of a brother who calls himself Percy likes to fancy us? Because if it comes down to that...we need to hold this family together, Fred. With Bill and Charlie moved out and Percy gone (good riddance, I must say), we are the oldest ones left, you know. We have to protect the others from You-Know-Who. Even if no one acknowledges it, he's back, and stronger than ever. We have to protect our family, or at least give them a good laugh now and then. We have to be strong if not for ourselves, for them And we can't do that if we're carted off to St. Mungo's because we've lost our bloody _minds_."

"George, listen to me", I say when he finishes talking. "We're not losing our minds."

Of course, this doesn't reassure him very much. He gives me a 'that's what they all say' kind of look, so I continue.

"Do you really think insane people sit there talking to their brothers saying, 'You know Mike, I do fancy I'm insane. Why, I'll just go and take myself to St. Mungo's now, as long as no one needs me at home at the moment'? Of course they don't. We're not insane. At the very worst we're blessed with the _cough-_extremely fake-_cough_ seeing eye of Professor Trelawney. I doubt it's that bad. Really, I reckon we just got on the receiving end of a Confundus Charm or some other fancy spell from ickle Ronniekins. In 20 years, we'll probably be saying to our grand-kids, you know, back in the day when I was a kid, my brother George and I had the coolest adventure. And before you know it, they'll all be wishing that they could have such overactive imaginations, too."

Fred is looking at me, a half-smile of disbelief on his face. Soon, it turns into a wide grin and even a laugh. In seconds, we are both laughing hysterically. Laughing at whoever decided to play a trick on the tricksters and nearly succeeded, laughing at ourselves for being such nervous wrecks. And laughing out of pure relief that maybe we have found a plausible explanation for the unexplainable.

That's one of the best things about being a twin: I can always make George, who is rather more sensitive than I am, cheer up. No one else is even aware that George ever _needs_ cheering up, for godsakes.

"You know," Fred says when the laughter starts to die down, "We still have to be careful."

I look at him quizzically, and he explains.

"You see, I know we're sane and you know we're sane, but unfortunately our brother is a prat, and his charming friends at the Ministry and Daily Prophet would love to believe that we are mentally unbalanced. And so, everything will be fine unless Percy finds out."

"Which should be easy enough, seeing how he wants to hear nothing of us these days, ever since we sided with Dad, Harry, and Dumbledore.", I add.

"Yes," agrees Fred, sighing slightly. "But we still can't mention this to anyone, just in case they accidentally tell Percy..."

"Tell Percy what?", asks an innocent-sounding feminine voice from outside the door. A very familiar voice. Fred and I exchange stricken glances.

Bloody toasted mushroooms!

Ginny's been eavesdropping.

**A/N: You know the deal, press the button, write some nice words, and press send, and when I get the review I will be very happy. I need reviews to keep going, although I will not make an official number in order to submit the next chapter.**

**PS: If you also like Maximum Ride, read FaNgizzsoKool's awesome fanfic called "All Because of Angel". We're allowed to put this in because FaNgizzoKool is a joint author of this story! And if you do read it, send a review to her with the word "shannon" alone on the last line. Please and thanks!**


	7. Truth or Lies

**A/N: Thank you readers and reviewers and story-alert-adders out there! Have a cookie! And now, here is the next chapter. And to all you out there who like different PoV's or think Ginny is the coolest, here is a chapter with some of Ginny's PoV in it! Read and review! (I like exclamation points!)**

**Disclaimer: Really, people. Get real. If we were J. K. Rowling..**

**1) J. K. Rowling would have a clone, since there are 2 of us. That would most certainly be all over the papers. And its not.**

**2) It would mean that J. K Rowling is sitting in front of a computer (_my_ computer) typing some fanfiction to her _own stories_. She is not a fan, she's the actual author, and really, I'm sure she has better things to do. **

George PoV:

"Ginny!", Fred and I shout.

I run over to the door, knocking over a lamp and a stack of spell-books and not even noticing. I throw open the door to find a bashful but smug Ginny, holding an Extendable Ear.

Now that's plain rude. Yes, it's terrible to eavesdrop and all, but to use our own invention against us...it's bloody unfair.

And as to the immediate crisis: how much has Ginny heard? And what should we tell her?

Do we make up a story, tell her to bug off...or the scariest idea: tell her the truth...

Ginny PoV:

"You have to promise not to tell anyone, says Fred solemnly. I am about to laugh at the strange sight of Fred being solemn, but something stops me, and I just nod quietly. I mean if Fred and George are _solemn_ for Merlin's sake, and haven't murdered me for eavesdropping, then this probably is not the best time for laughing.

_What could be so important?_, I wonder.

George starts talking once he seems to decide that my promise is sincere (which it is).

"Well...er...you see...", starts George. "It was..um...Crookshanks, yeah. Crookshanks, that's right."

Oh sure. This is a _real_ convincing start.

Fred takes up where George left off, with a little more conviction (but not much): "You see, Crookshanks was chewing on Percy's...erm...dress robes and we were afraid that he would get...er...angry if he found out."

Oh, OK. That sounds reasonable.

Except for the fact that Crookshanks has been in Hermione's room all morning, and that Percy took all his dress robes with him when he left. And the _very_ obvious fact that they were making the whole story up as they went along.

Really, it's insulting. If I were Bill or Charlie or Ron, they would tell me something that actually made sense: the _truth_. Or, at least, a lie that wasn't such an insult to my intelligence.

I tell them what I am thinking, and all they have to say is the extremely witty response: "Erm"

"Mm hm", I say. "And now for the truth..."

They stare at me incredulously. What, they didn't think their baby sister was capable of logic?

"I'm wai-ting!", I say in a sing-song voice.

They roll their eyes, then begin.

"You see, it all started when we were experimenting with making a new product for skiving snackboxes."

Oh, I should have known it would have something to do with that. After all, I _did _hear them talking about those products with Dung. But I never thought that they would actually be stupid enough to buy the stuff. Or _eat_ it. Really.

"...and then, there was a terrible pain and when it stopped we found ourselves in this big white room that looked like King's Cross..."

The twins finish their story, and I am left with my mouth hanging open.

"You...you _do _believe us?", asks George, a little nervously.

No one in their right mind should possibly believe them, and yet..."I believe you".

"So, um, what do we do now?", I ask, since the silence is becoming a little awkward.

'Erm...alrighty then", says Fred. That seems to be my cue to leave, so I turn to walk out of the room, mind working hard to process what I was just told. The facts are clear, sure, but what does this all _mean_?

Right before I reach the doorway, a thought strikes me. I _was_ eavesdropping on them, but I don't want to find toads in my pumpkin juice or anything else foul like that, which would probably strike Fred and George as hilarious. I turn around.

"Well, since you haven't, you know, murdered me for eavesdropping and all, can I assume that everything is fine between us?", I ask. Now it's my turn to be nervous.

"We still haven't ruled out murder", growls Fred in a voice bearing an uncanny resemblance to Mad-Eye. But then he and George shoot me one of their characteristic smiles, and I know that everything is forgiven.

And deep down, I think that they (not that they'd admit it) are just the tiniest bit glad that they had someone to share their story with.

I know I would be.

**A/N: (Insert cleverly worded plea for reviews here) So go on, what are you waiting for?  
**

**17ginny17: I have a new story, I have a new story! (does a happy dance)**

**FaNgizzoKool: (Backs away slowly)**

**Narrator: Read the new story please! It is called "The Way It Was Meant To Be". And it's totally awesome, dude. **


	8. A Plan

**A/N: Hi people! Here is Chapter 8 and I assure you that it is awesome (or at least halfway decent). **

**The chapter takes place a few months later, so bear with me. I don't do this often but if I didn't do it now then the story would be awfully pointless and boring.**

**Disclaimer: Wait...wait for it...nope not mine. I could cry. But I don't want to short-circut the computer. And then you'd have no fanfiction from me. And then we'd all cry and short-circut our computers. And that would be bad. So I won't cry.  
**

"Well, I guess that's all for tonight", says Lee cheerfully. Well, maybe not cheerfully, exactly. More like gladly. Tolerantly. Dully. Grimly. Well, to tell the truth, downright grumpily.

"Lee, give it up. That just is not going to work", says Fred, as Lee tries for the 784th time to charm the vomit-smell out of his robes.

"Bloody Merlin's Socks!"

Lee has managed to turn his robes bright pink and frilly.

"Language, language! Don't let the wee ones hear you curse. Wouldn't want to pollute their young, innocent, carefree minds, would you?", I say, nodding towards the first years filing out of the common room. They, too, smell vaguely of puke.

"Have you two been testing the sweets on the first years again?", accuses Hermione, entering the common room. Jeesh, she sounds just like mum.

"No", Lee replies at the same time that Fred and I defiantly answer "Yes!"

We try again.

"Yes"

"No"

"Erm"

Hermione sighs. "You guys are hopeless! I can't stop you three from eating those nasty things yourselves, but feeling them to the first years…It's my duty as a prefect…"

Blah, blah, blah. Oh, go eat a toaster! (A toaster, for those who don't know, is a muggle object that burns toast for which dad has an immense fascination. Don't ask me why.)

Hermione finally realizes that no one cares, and she stalks out of the common room, followed closely by Crookshanks.

This evening is _not_ turning out nicely. Grumpy Lee and Mum-like hermione...what's next?

Not to mention Umbridge. Ugh, that lady is bloody hell on feet in a pink fuzzy cardigan.

"Hem Hem!", calls a voice behind us. Lee and I jump out of our seats, wondering which educational degree we are breaking this time. We are just peeling ourselves off the ceiling when we realize that it was just Fred. Grrrrrrrr…

"We need to shake things up around here", says Fred, now in a normal but irritatingly calm voice. "Or else, we might die of boredom."

Well, maybe not boredom by some people's standards, which don't include accidentally turning Neville into a canary, nearly succeeding in turning Malfoy into a ferret, and erupting in highly painful boils after inventing a new sweet for our shop, but still, that's not the point.

"I know!", says Lee. "A new skiving snackbox. Let's see…what haven't we done yet? Maybe one to make you sneeze, or cough. Yeah, that's it! A sweet to make you cough, maybe wheeze…Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Wheezing…Wheezing what? Maybe watermelons, or white chocolate, or maybe waln-"

"No!", Fred and I both shout at him. That makes him stop talking, which is not an easy thing to do, usually. I guess that is what comes from being a Quidditch commentator. Talk, talk, talk, talk, rarely with any punctuation. But I'm being distracted from the immediate situation (I do that quite often, it seems).

"No!", Fred and I both shout at once. it may be over half a year later, but a person does not just forget a thing like that. To cover up our outburst, we try to think of a new idea. The same one hits Fred and me at the same time.

"You know, I do reckon I have enough education by now-", I begin.

"-so I'm thinking we should be handing in our resignation soon-", Fred continues.

"-and if we're going to leave-"

"We nay as well go out with an earthshaking bang!"

Lee stares at us, wondering what plan we might have in mind. We pay no attention to him as we start off to the dormitory, planning conspirationally. We talk in whispers, a plan slowly forming in our minds. One that for once is not limited by silly things like rules, fear of detention, or supposed respect for the toad-like headmistress.

Now, if we could only find those fireworks...

**A/N: (to the tune of I've Been Working on the Railroad or the Itsy Bitsy Spider)**

**Review, Review, Review, Reviewwwww**

**Review, Review, Review...**

**(repeat at increasingly high levels of volume until the person decides to review)**

**PS: FaNgizzoKool sends her compliments and would like you to know that she is way smarticle.**

**PPS: From now on I am going to thank people in my A/Ns. I would like to thank...**

**Evenstar606:You rock! Thanks for reviewing and for your comments! You totally made my day.**

**bluemoonlight92: Once again, thanks! I hope this chapter is a bit longer.**


	9. BOOM!

**A/N: Thanks so much to my all my readers, reviewers, etc. And thanks to my best friends. And my fifth grade teacher. And my kindergarten teacher. And the guy who drives the subway. And J. K. Rowling for writing awesome books. So, if you will allow me to say a few words: "Blubber, oddment, nitwit, tweak. The end!"**

**Disclaimer: The day I own Harry Potter is the day Professor Snape washes his hair.**

Fred PoV:

God, I hate Slytherins. Especially self-centered, stupid, bloody gits in Slytherin. Especially self-centered, stupid, bloody gits in Slytherin who insult my mother. Speaking of whom...

"Geroff! Geroff me!", shouts George. I am holding him back from tackling Montague as Umbrige walks by, luckily not noticing us. Lucky being a relative term, of course, since George and I just charmed her shoes to make her run uncontrollably, passing the empty classroom where we are hiding. I don't want trouble _now_, before we've even caused any mayhem.

I release George once Umbrige is past, but not before I catch his eye and point to the broken vanishing cabinet in the corner of the room. Perfect.

"One...two...THREE!"

We shove Montague into the cabinet. And now he's gone to wherever vanished objects go. Good riddance.

"_No one_ insults the Weasleys and get away with it!", I shout into the now-empty cabinet.

George and I hi-five, and rush off to set up our next piece of rule-shattering mischief.

_One and three-fifths hours later._

It's ready! Sure, it will take our entire stock of fireworks, and most likely cause quite a few detentions, but it will be totally worth it. That good-for-nothing rotten toad in an ugly pink cardigan will _never_ mess with the Weasley twins again. She won't know what hit her!

Just as I think that last thought, Harry comes into the previously deserted corridor. "Quick, Harry! All bloody hell is about to break loose: get out of here so no one thinks you were part of it." Harry takes our advice and leaves, and the hallway is deserted once again.

Weasley's Wonderiferous Whiz-Bangs (or some name of that type: we've changed it so many times that I'm not entirely sure which words we used. But so what?). Anyway...Weasley's Wonderiferous Whiz-Bangs--genius if I may say so myself.

"Which ones should we do first?", asks George, searching through our many boxes.

"First? Who cares about first? I say we just set off the lot at once."

We point our wands at the boxes. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The fireworks hover in the air.

"Inflagerate!"

They burst into flames, and then one by one explode.

BOOM! A large purple star bursts out of a firework.

BOOM! Five Catharine wheels burst into existence.

BOOM! Something sparkly that emits evil laughter.

OINK! Flying firework pigs.

**BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!** The rest of the fireworks are set off, and by now most of the students have gathered around to watch our multi-colored spectacle. Oh, I just love making spectacles, don't you?

George and I are lounging pretzel style on the floor, grins on our faces. The fireworks, instead of disappearing like normal fireworks, keep bouncing (yes, bouncing) and flying around the room, spreading into classrooms and down corridors, and occasionally spelling out mild profanities. Nothing over PG13, I assure you. Keep the first years' innocence and such.

Umbrige comes running up as fast as her short toady legs can carry her. We are casually walking away, whistling one of those I'm-so-innocent-not-really tunes. Of course, she knows it was us, but she has no way of proving it. And besides, George and I have already adopted a new motto for dealing with Umbrige during these last few weeks at Hogwarts: "Rules, Shmules. It's all a load of dung." No offense to dung intended, of course.

Dolores Umbrige PoV:

Why, those evil, rule-breaking Weasley twins, the nerve of them! How dare they?

"Hem hem", I say in a voice just dripping with molasses and honey. "Hem _HEM_!"

That should have their attention. Why don't they listen? I make a mental note to asker Fudge for an educational degree for mandatory listening to the high inquisitor. Oh, what would I do without dear Cornelius?

"HEM HEM!", I shout, my voice no longer quite so sweet. It's no use, so I put Filch to work getting rid of the horrid fireworks.

"Stupefy!", I shout, and to my extreme displeasure, the firework turns into ten fireworks. I hear snickering, and immediately award detention to everyone in the immediate vicinity.

I'll get those dirty blood-traitors if it's the last thing I do!

**A/N: Review. Please. Nothing else to say for now except:**

**'bye & thanks for sticking with Fred and George!**


	10. Mayhem and Goodbyes

**A/N: Here is Chapter 10, otherwise known as the Great Escape, or Freedom, or Give Her Hell From Us Peeves, or Bananas in Pajamas.**

**Wow, 10 chapters does seem like a lot, although maybe not to all you out there with 50+ chapter fanfics. But anyway, here is the long-awaited chapter that just so happens to be one of my favorite parts in the 5th book. Heck, it's up there with Molly Weasley killing Bellatrix and Lupin marrying and reuniting with Tonks. I've tried to do it justice, although goodness knows J. K. did it a lot better. Enough babbling, and enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: My ownership for Harry Potter is vanished. Where did it go? Into non-being, which is to say everything. So everything except me owns Harry Potter. How rude.**

George PoV:

Mayhem, chaos, and horror for Umbrige. That's today's theme, although we're still working on the details. Basically: wreak some havoc (or whatever that strange phrase is) and skedaddle before toad-face--sorry, I mean Umbrige--can give us detention. Not like we'd go, anyway.

"Oi! Harry!", Fred and I shout as he enters the commons room, talking urgently with Hermione and Ron. Something about Umbrige and distractions, but I can't catch the rest. Fate, huh?

"Need help?", Fred asks, and for good reason. Harry does look very troubled--teenage angst of the boy-who-lived, I guess--but he is about to turn away when Ron stops him. "Wait, Harry. Maybe they _can_ help." Harry doesn't look convinced.

Oh, come on. What problem is it that the Weasley twins of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes fame can't candle? School? Classes? Not an issue. Romance? We have an entire line of products.

"Oh, all right. I need to sneak into Umbrige's office to use her private fireplace, to talk to Sirius", says Harry.

Wonderful. Just peachy. So all he needs to do is sneak into an evil toad/devil/headmistress' office, use her highly protected and off-limits fireplace to communicate unlawfully with an alleged mass murderer. _That's_ sure to come off well. Where, may I ask, has he misplaced his brains?

So ordinarily this would be a no-brainer. No! End of story. But today, my friend, Harry Potter is in luck. Because today, "Umbrige", "distraction", and "mentally insane" are the magic words (no pun intended; I hate those things. They're an insult to class clowns and jokers everywhere).

To Harry, Ron, and Hermione's great surprise, we tell them its all under control, and to stop worrying. Because now it's the same mayhem but with a new name: mayhem for a good cause.

Take that, Fudge. The one thing you don't have.

Seventeen minutes and eight seconds later...

Fred PoV:

"This is it, George! Time to make our grand departure", I call out. We're standing in Gregory the Smarmy's corridor, where no one is in sight.

George nods with an evil grin that is mirrored on my own face. He pulls from his pocket a small orange cube with " Portable Swamp--Property of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" imprinted in purple ink on the top. We press our wand tips to the top, muttering the incantation of our own invention. It happens to be "Eat dung, Umbrige". The box opens with a muffled _thwong!_ Inside is a murky brownish-green substance, swirling slowly.

George prods it gently with his wand, then stirs it three times clockwise and once counterclockwise. At once, a silvery brown vapor begins to leave the box, draining it. The vapor takes shape, and within seconds, we are standing in the middle of a swamp.

Let me repeat that, in case it hasn't sunk in. We are _standing_ in a _swamp_ in the middle of the _hallway_. I think that deserves a round of applause. Please, no photos.

Relatively quickly, the entire student body, Inquisitorial Squad, and Umbrige all come running up. Except of course for Harry, who is off creating his own trouble in Umbrige's now-deserted room.

Umbrige starts squawking at us, and I must say she appears to be doing a very good imitation of Pete the Parrot, who was our favorite pet around the time we were five years old. He accidentally ate some exploding snap pieces that we left lying around, and had some very interesting fits of spasms and noise until he fell stiffly to the bottom of the cage and stopped moving. But enough about Pete, that's not important right now.

George and I hold up our hands, still grinning, in mock defeat. Then we begin our little sarcastic dialogue, more for the entertainment of the students than anything.

"You know, I do believe that we've outgrown full-time education", I begin.

"Yeah, I reckon its time for us to test our talents in the real world", continues George lightly.

It is taking all of our self-control to stop from bursting out laughing just from the look on Umbrige's fat, ugly face. It looks like she was given a dare to turn all the colors of the rainbow—at once. First she turns white, then a pukeish green, then pink to red to maroon, and then her face finally settles on a deep purple to rival Harry's Uncle Vernon.

"You…you…you'll pay for this!", she splutters.

"No, don't think we will", I answer with a smile. George and I raise our wands. "Accio brooms!", we shout in unison.

Two Cleansweep 7s come flying up from the dungeons to greet us, one with a metal peg still dangling dangerously from the handle. We hop on as Umbrige shouts incomprehensibly at us.

"We won't be seeing you!"

"Yeah, don't bother to stay in touch!"

We kick off, and I must say, the ceiling of Hogwarts has never looked so nice. George and I are already halfway to the exit when we see Peeves hovering a few feet away from us. I get an idea—"Give her Hell from us, Peeves!", I shout in ringing tones.

As we zoom spectacularly towards the sunset and open door (there always seems to be a sunset during dramatic departures, so why not for us?), shouting last words to all of the students, I see Peeves out of the corner of my eye. He is saluting us.

George and I make a final burst of speed and fly out of the door into the vast sky. We turn around, taking one last look at Hogwarts. Then we let go.

"Freedom!", we shout as we do crazy air somersaults and let out wild whoops of victory. "Freedom!"

** A/N: So, what do you think? Any type of reviews are welcomed and will most certainly make us very happy. I'm not sure how quickly we should be publishing chapters, but one per week sounds like an OK goal to me. With two stories to update and lots of schoolwork, I don't think we can publish any faster than that.**


	11. In Which Mum Goes Ballistic

**A/N: Here is chapter 11, and once again it is time to thank all of my readers and reviewers, especially evenstar606 (see, if you review you get your name in the author's note)! I really would like it if more people reviewed, though. Really. And so now comes chapter 11, and I hope you find it nice and very review-worthy!**

**And I'm sorry about the delay, but schoolwork, and family and friends, and my life come first. (Yes, I do have a life. Although I'm working on fixing that.) I also apologize in advance for my excessive use of parenthesis and italics. **

**Disclaimer: The day that I own Harry Potter is the day that J. K. Rowling turns out to be a llama in disguise. A very good disguise.**

George PoV:

Ooooowww! My rear end is in pain! Whose great idea was it, anyway, to ride on bloody _broomsticks_ all the way from Hogwarts to Diagon Alley?

Oh yeah. Mine. But _still..._Why couldn't we have hijacked the Hogwarts express or something? It's a good thing we're almost there, because after one more hour of sitting on this broom, my bottom would be permanently stuck to it.

Fred is looking just as dejected as me, until he spots something in the distance: a small store, vacant at the moment, with a sign posted in front window: Future Premises of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.

Home!

"Race you there!", I hear, and before I can say guacamole, Fred has sped off at top speed towards the building. There's only one thing to do.

"Oh no, you don't!", I yell back as I race towards him. Soon we are neck to neck, and our surroundings are just a greenish grey blur. Fred and I pull up at the house at exactly the same moment, both grinning and panting, sore buttocks forgotten. We demount and walk towards the large white front door. It is very large, with white siding and white shutters on the windows.

Obviously, this won't do.

"White", says Fred with contempt in his voice. "Ugh. How boring can you get?" We raise our wands, and suddenly the house is instead turquoise with an orange front door, purple-and-yellow plaid shutters, and a large African elephant in cheap roller skates on the front lawn.

What, you might ask, is an African elephant doing on our front lawn? Eating all the grass, that's what. It seems that when one person tries to summon an armadillo and someone next to them conjures up a pair of pink earmuffs, this is the result. Frankly, I'm surprised that no one ever discovered that before.

On second thought, maybe its not so surprising, since not many people have ever had any reason to summon either of the above. I guess that's what leads _us_ to be such geniuses.

Fred seems to be thinking along the same lines as me: "Where the bloody hell did that elephant come from?! It was _supposed_ to be a pair of earmuffs..."

He vanishes the animal with a flick of his wand, before some Ministry of Magic official comes to tell him that elephants are against zoning regulations. The color of the house is ours to chose, but I think the neighbors would definitely but their foot down at the elephant. Imagine what Mum would say if we told her we were going to keep the elephant for a pet..."Bloody Hell! We didn't tell Mum about this yet, did we?", I say.

"You're right!", says Fred in a slightly panicked voice. "I guess we _will_ get to see what it looks like for Mum to go ballistic, after all. It's not a pleasing thought."

Now I'm expecting a howler to come zooming in at any moment. But what I'm not expecting is--"MUM?!?!" Fred and I look at each other, in real panic now. Mum has just apparated down the street, and is walking briskly towards us. "Where do we hide?", I whisper urgently to Fred. Apparation has not even occurred to me; I'm too busy looking for a bush to crouch behind. It's to late to do anything, though, because Mum has just spotted us.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?", she shouts. Blimey, must she disturb the entire neighborhood?

"COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, YOU TWO SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN THIS..." Mum is now walking rapidly towards us, screaming incessantly.

"...HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO BE SUCCESSFUL WITHOUT ALL YOUR EDUCATION? NONE OF YOUR BROTHERS FELT THE NEED TO MAKE TROUBLE ALL THE TIME..." Well, really Mum. Why don't you shout a little louder so all the deaf people in New Zealand, no, forget New Zealand; so all the deaf earmuff-wearing aliens on Alpha Centauri can hear you? This is even worse than the time that we almost, mind you _almost_ got Ron to make an Umbreakable Vow (The fact that we had no wands or knowledge of spells at the time was the 'almost'). And much, much worse than that time in second year when we made the fanged frisbee follow Percy around, biting his ears. Good times...

"A JOKE SHOP, _HONESTLY_! YOU'RE WASTING YOUR LIVES. AND WHERE IN MERLIN'S NAME DID YOU FIND THE MONEY TO START IT UP, ANYWAY? HMMMM?"

Silence.

The shouting seems to be over, so I shoot Fred a grin. He doesn't return it, and in a moment I realize why. Mum has just asked the fatal question: Where did we get the money?

"Well...erm...you see". I stall, casting around for a good excuse. To tell the truth would break an old Weasley twin tradition, aside from letting loose another stream of all-capital-letter lectures. And probably getting Harry in trouble, too. Mum taps her foot in an annoyed way, and looks like any moment she will have a conniption. (I'm not too sure what that is, but it sounds appropriate. Look it up if you feel like wasting your time).

"If you must know", begins Fred, "Harrygaveushistriwizardwinningstostartourstore". **(A/N: If you can't read it, that is "Harry gave us his Triwizard winnings to start our store", but with no spaces)** He sort of mumbles it under his breath, but with 7 kids, I guess I person learns to become fluent in mumbled confessions and such. Pity. Deaf Alpha Centaurians and New Zealanders, here comes round two!

"_What_?!", gasps Mum. For a split second, she looks almost relieved, as if she had been expecting something illegal (which she probably was). Then the meaning sinks in. "WHAT?!?!"

"Please, don't scream, Mum, I say wearily. Actually, I'm not weary at all, but it makes her feel like she's made a difference in our sadly corrupted lives if we look unhappy. Fred and I lead her into the house, and conjure up some tea and an armchair for her.

"Fred, George, how could you accept that money? It was Harry's, he won it", she says.

"It was Harry's to do what he liked with, and what he liked was to practically force it down our throats!", says Fred to our defense. "We didn't want it, honest, but he insisted!"

"Well...I guess, but a _joke_ _shop_? You _know_ what I think about that." Yes, we do, so no need to remind us again.

"Well, now that that's out of your system--", I start.

"--Would you like to see the house?", finishes Fred. Mum says nothing , but takes the I'll-murder-you-two-in-your-beds look off her face, so we take it as a yes. I hand Mum her wand, which she had put down in order to yell and flail her arms without poking out any eyes or internal organs (or external organs for that matter).

_Quack_! Yep, you guessed it: it is a trick wand. Or rather, it was a trick wand. Now it's one of those rubber ducks that Dad is so fascinated with.

Fred quickly hands Mum her real wand, and we lead her upstairs, summoning furniture and unpacking trunks as we go.

Well, that was a bit annoying, but what's life without a bit of excitement and ballistic mothers?

(Don't answer that)

**A/N: 17ginny17 is not available right now. If you would like to leave a message, press the "Review" button and start typing after the beep.**

**BEEEEEEEEEEP!**

**What are you waiting for? GO!**


	12. Mysterious Order Business

**A/N: Here I am, back again with another chapter, even though I was on vacation up until about a day ago. It didn't want to be written, but I don't give up without a fight. So read and review, people. I assure you that you could not find a better way to waste time in front of a computer screen.**

**Disclaimer: (Strange Egyptian-like nasal singing) _If I owned Harry Potter, you'd all have hover bacon, la la la la la, If I owned Harry Potter, pork would have levitation, la la la la la... _(Please don't ask. It's a long and painful story involving a melting ice cream cake, Ponce de Leon, and a dancing alpaca named Kim...)**

Fred PoV:

Even though it has only been about a month since George and I moved into this house, it already feels more like home than even the Burrow ever did. Maybe it's because we can leave the dirty dishes in the sink for a few days and shove dirty socks under the bed without anyone shouting at us. Or because we can experiment all we want without having to stifle the booms and hisses that mum never knew the half of. Or because we are free to leave a bubbling pot of viscous green goo on the kitchen floor, and no one is going to tell us no. Or maybe it's simply the absence of mum's hideous music...

_(Flashback)_

_Yoooooouuuuuuuuve charmed the heaaaaaaaart right ouuuut of meeee-eeee-eeeeeeeee, la laaaaaaa la laaaa la la..._

_"No! Make it stop! My bleeding ears, take pity on them! TURN IT OFF!"_

_Mum turns it louder, so that she can still hear the music over the screaming of two tortured 9-year-olds._

_"NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"_

_The kitchen floor suddenly comes flying up out of nowhere, right up in front of my nose._

_Everything turns black._

_(End Flashback)_

I shudder, and go back to prodding my newly-made exploding parchment sample cautiously with my wand.

So anyhow, we're having a great time on our own, in the absence of many things that truly should never-again-be-named-or-thought-of.

The joke shop's going fantastically, too. The nosebleed nougats, puking pastilles, fever fudge, and all the rest of our skiving snackboxes are simply flying off the shelves. I've heard tell that they are very effective in getting out of Umbrige's class. It serves her right of course, the [censored) [censored) [censor falls down on the floor from an overdose of exceedingly strong and colorful language). We are having so much business, actually, that I may have to talk to George about hiring an assistant.

"Hello? Hello??" Someone's voice is calling from the fireplace, although I'm too far away to tell who it is. What have I told the customers about floo-ing after the store is closed? I mean, we're open until 9:30, so would it kill them to wait until tomorrow? But noooo, they never learn.

"Oi, George! Can you get that?", I yell down. Apparently he has picked it up, because the calling stops, to be replaced by some words that I can't make out. Then there is a few seconds of quiet, and George calls up to me: "Fred! Come down!"

I make my way downstairs, preparing to explain to yet another customer that we are _closed_, and have no intention of catering to customers. But, I am in for a bit of a surprise when I get downstairs, because it is actually Remus' head in the fire, looking very grave.

"Ok, then, bye George. I'll talk to you as soon as we get back", he says, and then his head disappears. "What was that all about?", I ask.

George answers with a dead serious look on his face. "He said that he has to go over to the Ministry, for some top secret Order stuff. He wouldn't say what, but he seemed really worried". George speaks with a hint of contempt, or even envy in his voice, which I completely understand. I mean, hello, we are of age already, living on our own, and 100 percent on Harry and Dumbledore's side. In the name of Merlin's rheumatic left knee, what else do they want us to do to get into the Order? Grow beards?

"Anyway, what could this 'important Order business' be? Nothing worth seeing has happened for a long time, it makes me wonder…and what could be important enough for Sirius to be leaving headquarters with no major problems from mum?", says George.

"How do you know Sirius is going?", I ask. "Did Lupin tell you?"

"Nah, I heard Sirius in the background, yelling at Kreacher to fetch his cloak quickly. Well, those weren't the exact words. The exact words had something to do with a nasty bugger, a sniveling toerag, and an extremely skinny flowerpot that might be good for smashing a disobedient house-elf's head into. Apparently he's in a hurry to leave." After a moment's thought, George adds again, "_What_ could be so important?"

"Dunno", I answer creatively, and kick the nearest display shelf. Which was not a good idea, because now I have painfully stubbed my toe and also sent a cascade of squeaking rubber mice falling to the floor and skittering across the wood.

It's just bloody _unfair_, that's all. George and I have a right to be in the Order. We _want_ to help defeat Voldemort. We even made a promise, not in earshot of mum of course, that we would both be there if there was a final battle, helping all that we could. Not even overprotective mothers have a right to keep us from our duty to the wizarding world. Anyone who says otherwise deserves a nice long holiday in the inside of a dustbin.

I sigh, and George and I slowly walk back to the activities that we were doing before Lupin's call. Worries weigh heavily in my mind as I sit back down on my cot, and I can't help wondering how serious this Order buisness really is. Look at all those people in the Order, I couldn't stand if anything happened to them. Except maybe Snape, I never got over the fact that he is a greasy, mean old git. But besides that, if mum or dad got hurt, or Sirius, or Lupin, or even McGonigall...and what about Ron, and Harry and Hermione, back at Hogwarts? They're nearly always involved in this kind of thing, what if something happened to them?

I find it hard to concentrate on the exploding parchment I am making, and it bursts into flame too close to my eyebrows for comfort. I decide that maybe it is not the best thing to be working on now, so I put everything down, and flop onto my bed. I stare at the clock on the wall for a while, and then decide that the ticking will drive me mad if I keep it up for much longer. I walk downstairs in slow motion, and find George pacing around the front room, having abandoned listening to the radio. We both sit down on the couch, and talk about basically nothing.

10:15

11:30

12:05

1:29...

I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I know it is 5:30 in the morning and the sun is blinding me through the window. "George, get up!", I tell him. His response is "Graaoooooooph...they're just muffins, they're not supposed have teeth..."

Strange. Sometimes I wonder what George dreams about.

"George!", I yell into his ear. He wakes up with a start, and then realizes that the entire night passed without a word from Lupin or the Order. We get up and stretch, and in a few minutes we hear a voice in the fireplace. It's not Lupin; it's deeper than his voice. I walk over to the fireplace with George, and we see Kingsley Shacklebolt in the fire. "Hey, Kingsley, what was going on with the Order last night, anyway? Lupin said he'd floo me as soon as he got back. We were real worried", I say.

Kingsley looks at me with tired, solemn eyes, and I realize that something must have gone wrong. Worries and horrible thoughts race through my mind. What could have happened? "Come up to the Burrow, we'll explain there. You're right, it is about the Ministry last night", he says. George nods, and Kingsley disappears. I don't need to look at George to know that his face holds the same questions as mine.

I walk over and put our "Closed Today" notice on the door, and then George and I prepare to apparate to the Burrow.

We have no idea that what we hear there will change our lives more than anyone could ever guess.

**A/N: Yay, another chapter is done!**

**Now it is time for YOU to REVIEW! (That rhymes!) My goal happens to be 35 reviews by chapter 15, so I would really appreciate it if you got me one step closer to that goal. Thanks, and 'bye!**

**Oh, and a postscript, of course: Oh a random note, do you know those big cartoon outfit costumes that they make people wear at Disney world and such places? Well, imagine a big eagleish bird one with a way-too-big smile, and it's taking pictures with the kids…and then a group of teenage friends come along, and next thing it's singing "Soldja boy…" and dancing in the middle of the street. Scary is it not? The strange things that a person finds on vacation… **


	13. Sirius

**A/N: Hello! This chapter really should not be up yet, but I was having trouble with my other story, The Way It Was Meant To Be, so I wrote this one in the meantime. This is one of those scenes that were never shown in the books, but that I for one always wondered about. I hope you enjoy it, and I thank everyone who has been following this story!**

**Disclaimer: Me: "I own Harry Potter!" You: "Really?" Me: "No"**

George PoV:

_Pop!_

Fred and I are now in the Burrow, having apparated into the living room. For some reason, the first thing I notice is the clock on the wall, the one with all our names on the nine hands. Most of the hands are pointing directly to "mortal peril", but that's not surprising--it's been like that since last year when Voldemort came back. The parts that immediately catch my eye are the three hands labeled "Ronald", "Genevra", and "William". Ron, Ginny, and Bill. Those three are flicking back and forth between mortal peril and hospital. Of course, for Ginny and Ron, that could be just the hospital wing with nothing serious, but Bill's on there too, and all three of them at once seems like an unlikely coincidence. Oh, god. What happened to them? What happened, period?

Fred and I turn around and walk to the other room, where everyone is presumably waiting. To describe how we feel, if nonplussed is a feeling, then we are thoroughly plussed. I immediately take a look at all the faces. Some are missing, and my mind starts to worry immediately. Those who I see are anything but happy. Mum has bags under her eyes, and her face is red as if from crying. Lupin's tired eyes are holding back tears, and his hair looks a shade greyer. Tonks has tear tracks running down her heart-shaped face, her hair more brown than purple (which I would later learn had nothing to do with the current situation, but something else entirely). What the bloody hell happened? Everyone is so solemn and quiet that even my magenta shop robes seem too loud.

Fred finally musters up the courage to speak: "What happened at the Ministry--Lupin talked to us last night--?"

Dad begins to talk to us, after exchanging a questioning look with Mum, who nods. "It's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…He was at the Ministry--" Holy--wow. I am so shocked that I almost miss what follows. "He made Harry come to the Ministry, tricked him, and Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and another girl in Ginny's year, Luna, followed--" Each name strikes another place inside of me...Ron, Hermione, Harry...and Ginny, my baby sister. She's just a kid, for Merlin's sake. And some girl I don't even know. In the Ministry when they should be in school, with Voldemort! That's mental. That's just wrong. What happened? Are they okay?

Dad tells me the whole story. Apparently they found out from Snape that the kids might be there, and the Order rushed off to the Ministry. And they fought death eaters, and Dumbledore fought Voldemort himself...and then he tells me about the people who were there. Kingsley, Lupin, Sirius, Bill, Dumbledore, and many others penetrate through my numb mind.

"Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna are okay. All of them except Luna are in the hospital wing, nothing really serious, but Hermione got hurt with a nasty spell that fractured a few ribs. Bill...he got...bitten...by Fenrir Greyback. He—they think he's okay, but they're not sure if he will be a…werewolf now" Dad's voice wavers for a moment, and I suddenly see that he, too, is holding back his insecure feelings. "Everyone else is mostly okay, you see Kingsley, Tonks, Lupin, Mad-Eye, Molly, all here, although a few are in St. Mungo's—mostly minor things. Except…except" Except who? Dad's voice breaks there, and Kingsley takes over, his low voice as calm as could be expected. "Except, Sirius. He's…passed on. Bellatrix's doing, hit him with a spell, and—"

I can't listen any more.

I can't believe that we weren't there to help. Bill, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Harry, _Sirius_...all were there. Ginny and Ron--their my little brother and sister! And Harry and Hermione, they're like family, too! And the danger...

And now Sirius is dead. Gone. Forever. The truth hits me like a ton of cement cauldrons.

Never again will we hear Sirius' laughter, or see him standing up to Snape. Never again will we see him bound across the sidewalk disguised as a shaggy black dog. My mind can't comprehend it. Dead. Last I heard from him he was yelling at Kreacher. Never again will he yell, or talk, or cry.

And Harry, how will Harry feel? I know this will hurt him more than any of us. Sirius was his godfather, the next best parent Harry could have after his own. It makes everything feel so real, now that Voldemort has taken one of us. It's not just a game, it's serious, and if you lose strength, even for a moment, you die.

In the midst of pain and what feels a lot like fear, it takes me a few moments to realize my extreme déjà vu. Fred seems to have figured it out just a second before me: his stifled gasp comes only a moment before mine.

This happened before.

No, not exactly, but Sirius died...two months ago...in our minds...

No, stop that. It's a coincidence.

Coincidence.

It can't be.

It has to be.

It's not.

This is too much for my emotional range to handle all at once. I look at Fred searchingly, and dad sees.

"You'd better be getting back now. You both look like you got no sleep", he says. Thank goodness for his perceptiveness, or perhaps complete lack of perceptiveness. But either way he has given us an excuse to leave and talk alone.

"You lot better get some sleep too", I say. Really, are they mental, staying up all night, fighting _Death Eaters_,and then insisting that _we_ need sleep?

Fred and I apparate back to the apartment, confusion and mourning mingling into an uncomfortable mix.

The discomfort is only heightened when we hear talk of the veil in the department of mysteries.

**A/N: A major plot point might, just _might_, mind you, be beginning to develop here…I won't say any more, except that some parts which I have been planning since the beginning are starting to amble into place…**

**Oh, and I'm taking a wild leap on what the enchanted clock might do if a person is in two of the situations at once. I don't know that it matters much, but I thought I'd say something.**

**Anyway, please review to tell me what you think. I am thinking that maybe I will not post the next chapter until I get 3 reviews; I've seen a lot of people who do that. Then again, maybe I'll just post as soon as I feel like it. But review anyway: you'll make me veeeeeery happy!**


	14. TEMPORARY CHAPTER

To whom it may concern: (meaning whoever has been reading this story)

I should start off by saying that I am very sorry that I just stopped writing chapters for you guys without any notice. I have been meaning to continue and then I have no time and...yeah. Enough excuses. The story is TEMPORARILY stopped where it is. I still hope to continue it. For the moment, though, I can't promise anything. So any readers out there, if you want, put me on your 'story alert list'. I really really hope to be able to get out some more chapters...unfortunately I don't know when.

Sincerely

_17ginny17_

.

PS: I am still active on FictionPress, this site's 'sister site' so check out listen.to.the.wind (that's me!) by doing a search for 'Emmet Warner's time machine' (that's a title) and then clicking on the author's name, 'listen.to.the.wind', to get my profile page. Thanks!


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